


eyes like bluebells, hair like night

by miraculousandcute (hellomyoldheart)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Reveal Fic, angst because this was basically therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 23:45:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6097847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellomyoldheart/pseuds/miraculousandcute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adrien struggled with words; the right thing to say and the best way to say it. When Ladybug's identity starts to comes together, he wonders just how he'll be able to tell her without losing her completely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	eyes like bluebells, hair like night

Adrien liked words when they were simple. Straightforward. When he didn’t have to read between the lines or tear them apart looking for a hidden message. But then he thought about his strict, scheduled life—being told to “do this, not that” with no room for debate didn’t make him happy at all. So maybe simple wasn’t best.

Maybe he liked the tone. His classmates were cheerful and their greetings sweetened the air like powdered sugar. Ladybug could be harsh, but also acknowledged when she was wrong. There was an unbreakable trust in everything she said to him. It all helped his own voice strengthen and brighten. He could finally see sunlight streaming through the dark thorns of the mansion walls.

And when it came to the things he said, Adrien wished he was perfect; that his jokes were clever enough and his arguments strong-willed. He hoped he had a voice people would listen to.

Overall, he just knew he liked words. Not to study or to criticize but to mold however he pleased. They were the puns that made Ladybug roll her eyes, the comforts that made friendships, and the only way he could get his father’s attention. When Adrien was little, they had been the love poems his mother read him at night. They would be the way he won his Lady’s heart.

At least, he hoped so. The Valentine poem had been a hit and miss. Someone out there—he desperately hoped it was Ladybug—had read the feelings he struggled to say and answered them with love and red ink. It was a mystery that taunted him for months until a clue miraculously appeared in the letters that taunted him from the margins of Marinette’s sketchbook. Her class notes were always rushed and blue, but this page of red dresses had swirling, careful annotations.

His mouth fell open. “Marinette…you designed this?”

She blushed in response, and he idly wondered if she mistook his surprise for awe. “I did.”

Which meant she liked him and Ladybug didn’t. His shoulders slumped. Marinette was amazing and creative and brave, but there was something that kept her from fully accepting him like Ladybug. Unless…they were one in the same. Marinette’s poem and cheeks were shades of rose, but her eyes were bluebells, her hair black as night. It took him some time to look away.

The next day he listened closely whenever Marinette spoke. She had gotten over her awkwardness around him, but her confidence still wavered in brief moments. With others her voice was consistently strong, and her laugh fluttered like white butterflies.

“Hey, Marinette?”

She hummed and looked up from her book. “What’s up?”

“Can I ask a favor?”

The library was filled with casual chatter, but he found himself whispering. What he said and what he would ask were only for her. Marinette nodded and cocked her head.

“Could you cover your eyes?” Lifting his hands, he turned them so that his fingertips touched. “Like this?”

She sat back and a quirked eyebrow hinted at her wariness. “What are you planning, Adrien Agreste?”

He shrugged. “Indulge me?”

Her body gravitated towards him as she studied his face like it might hold the secrets he didn’t even know how to begin explaining. Unless his hunch was right, then he might know just what to say. If he could finally get it out.

She sighed. “I guess I’ll trust you.” With her hands in position, Adrien’s eyes leisurely explored her uncovered skin. He stared at her lips.

“Who’s your favorite superhero?” he murmured, leaning forward. It was a hunch that he desperately hoped would come true. Adrien needed her to say his alter ego’s name.

Her lips moved, curving in familiar ways, and his heart leapt in response. “Chat Noir.”

A whole new dilemma began. A purring delight threatened to rush out of him, but shame locked it in. How could he have gone on and on about recognizing Ladybug anywhere when she had been right behind him this whole time? And was he being selfish? Ladybug had desperately held on to her secret identity, yet here he was unraveling it.

Marinette peeked at him from between her fingers. “Adrien?”

All of his worries paused. His Lady had said both of his names to him, even if she didn’t know it, and he grinned. “That’s all. Just curious.”

Her laugh joined the pleasant murmur around them. “You are so weird.”

Hours later Ladybug and Chair Noir leapt across rooftops, patrolling the city. Chat practically shook with energy, and he caught Ladybug giving him long looks. He knew he couldn’t keep this to himself, but he struggled with how to bring it up. What if he said the wrong thing and she hated him? Chat Noir wasn’t dumb—he knew Ladybug tired of his quips. But he craved her attention, and he wanted her to think he was clever. Was he even clever for finding out her identity? Or was he creepy? His thoughts seemed to go in a circle of pros and cons.

Until they hit a gravel roof, and everything suspended as he felt the rocks under his feet skid. Chat fell with a terrified yowl. Limbs spread and sharp pricks digging into his back, he looked ready to make a rock angel. His bad luck sharpened its claws in the worst possible moments.

“Chat Noir!” Her footsteps were light and capable on the uneven surface. He tipped his head back to watch her rush over. “Are you okay?”

“I think I fell for you all over again, Bugaboo.” The words came out smoothly, and his hopes soared. Maybe he could do this after all.

Ladybug snorted and bent at the waist. “Can you stand?”

He mimed hurt and twitched his legs. “Oh, the agony,” he whined.

The rocks above his head scraped against each other as she sat, legs folded under her. “Poor little kitty,” she said with a giggle. “Would you like a pillow to rest on?”

“If the lady would be so kind.”

She scooted forward and gently placed his head on her lap. Chat sighed and thought about the last time she had cradled him like this while fighting Lady Wifi. He knew Ladybug cared about him, but Marinette was more mysterious to him—even more so now that he knew she answered his poem. He wondered if this would all go differently without the masks.

Chat closed his eyes. “Do you like poetry?”

Fingers stroked his hair and lightly traced black ears. “Yes and no? Pretty words, confusing meanings.”

“I think I know one you’ll like.”

“Oh, really?” she teased. “Let’s hear it then.” Warm breath glided over his skin. She must have leaned in to hear him better, and Chat fidgeted under the gaze he couldn’t see. He wouldn’t lose his confidence now.

“Your hair,” he began with a dreamy lilt, “is dark as night, your pretty bluebell eyes;

I wonder who you are beneath that strong disguise.”

She was close enough that he heard her sharp inhale, and the ministrations in his hair stopped.

“Every day we see each other, and I hope that you’ll be mine.

Together our love could be so true…” His voice had started to shake. “Marinette, will you be my valentine?”

Chat was no poet, but he knew when words came from the heart. It’s what plagued him when his father spoke, voice cold and broken as if all of his love had disappeared with Mother.

“Adrien,” she breathed above him, and then suddenly his head hit the ground.

His eyes flew open. There was no Ladybug hovering over him, but he knew she was still here from the sound of her pacing. Tears scratched behind his eyes. Marinette said nothing more, and he just knew he had messed up. Adrien wouldn’t just lose a love tonight; he would lose his best friend.

“I can forget it,” he called, desperate for her to talk to him. “I’ll forget that I ever knew. I’ll leave you alone at school. Whatever you want.” The rocks had stopped moving. “Just…just know I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Marinette.”

There were soft crunches, and then Ladybug sat down next to him. Her face was hidden behind her hands.

“When did you figure it out?”

He licked his suddenly dry lips—it was if all the moisture had gone to his eyes. “Today. In the library. But it started when I recognized your handwriting from the Valentine.”

Marinette groaned almost like she was embarrassed, looked down at him from between fingers, just like earlier, and then gasped. Clothed hands cupped his face as she hunched over. “Oh, Adrien. Why are you crying?”

He tried to quietly gulp in the air his lungs lacked while also rushing to tell her everything. “You didn’t want me to know but I was so desperate to figure it out and then I had a lead that I couldn’t let go of because it just felt _right_ and I didn’t even reconsider how you would feel and—“

“Stop. Chat Noir, stop. You need to breathe.”

Adrien dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and tried to calm down. “I broke your trust,” he finally whispered. The pads of her fingers lightly stroked his cheeks.

“You’re wrong.” He stilled at her words. “The pieces came together and you didn’t hide it.”

Marinette gripped his wrists and pulled them away. He didn’t resist.

“You don’t hate me for it?” Their eyes had locked, and he scrutinized them for any hint of evasion.

She didn’t shy away. “No, of course not. I’m actually surprised it took this long. We see each other almost every day with and without the mask.”

Their hands were joined, resting on her lap, and he escaped her eyes by focusing on them instead. He mimicked her earlier actions and stroked the material with his thumb.

“So are we okay?” he said. “Is this okay?”

“I’m okay. Are you?”

“Yes,” he breathed. Relief washed away all of the worries and regrets he’d obsessed over in the last few hours. “God, yes.”

“Good. I think we should take some time to think about it. There’s a lot of…complicated feelings we’re going to have to talk about.” A light blush bloomed beneath her mask, and he gripped her hands.

“Marinette?”

“Mhm?”

Translating his thoughts was truly where he struggled. Eventually he would find the right words for what he was feeling—maybe another poem would be written.

“Thank you.”

She smoothed his bangs aside and bent to kiss his brow. “Stop worrying so much, kitty. We’ll figure it out.”

**Author's Note:**

> A stressful week apparently means venting through Adrien. Sorry buddy. I'm also on tumblr as miraculousandcute.


End file.
